


White Flag

by ihadthisdream0nce



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihadthisdream0nce/pseuds/ihadthisdream0nce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is pretty obvious that if you have a situation involving two species, they can only react together if they come into contact with each other. They first have to collide, and then they may react.</p><p>Why "may react"? It isn't enough for the two species to collide - they have to collide the right way around, and they have to collide with enough energy for bonds to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Flag

Limbs thrashed above the sheets, forcing the silky gray covers into a tangled heap at the foot of the bed. Blunt nails dug into sensitive flesh, leaving small crescent moon-shaped cuts upon the soft surface. The only sounds heard were the heated gasps that filled the air, suspended between two distinct figures; their faces obscured by the darkness of the small room.

A loud thwack interrupted the mocking silence, the angry red outline of a hand imprinted upon the smooth flesh of the slighter form. The other figure's movements grew more violent, more erratic, as he reached the precipice of pleasure, leaving his consort in a state of flaccidity. The taller participant let out a strangled cry, collapsing on top of the smaller's back and effectively pinning him down.

"You're nothing but a no good slut." The words stung like knives, hate spewing from one figure's mouth and choking the other as their lips collided in a violent one-sided dance. The more aggressive party tugged harshly on his unwilling partner's hair, threading his fingers through the luscious brown curls and yanking them upwards for a better angle.

The smaller boy screamed in pain, spine contorting unnaturally to appease the will of his oppressor. His  body ached, bones vehemently protesting the new position, limbs burning as he struggled to hold himself up, keep himself composed for just a few seconds longer.

His attacker's lips moved slowly, cautiously, intentionally taking their time as they traveled down the column of his throat, nipping sadistically every now and then. The slight boy didn't want to think of how he'd look in the morning. He didn't want to throw up, didn't want to have to suffer the punishment for doing something without being told to specifically, he didn't want to make him mad. He needed to be the only thing that he would ever want.

He needed to be perfect.  
_______

Louis' eyes shot open when he heard it.

First, it was just a tiny inkling of sound, barely noticeable. Then, it grew louder and louder until it never stopped, like a bull in a china shop; there would always be more china to break into a million pieces. Just like for Harry, there would always be more tears to fall.

Louis hated these days. The days that Harry would come home broken, absolutely shattered, without a single rhyme or reason. He'd lock himself in his room; somehow he found solace in the blank walls and threadbare sheets. Then, he'd cry.

He'd cry for hours and hours. He'd cry until he'd shed every single tear and then some. He'd cry until he was purged, and then he'd cry more. He'd cry for days on end, as if it were seemingly possible. He'd cry until Louis couldn't take it anymore; there was so much hurt in such a young boy, and Louis couldn't stand to think that it was Harry. His Harry. Sweet, innocent, fun, adorable, lively Harry.

The Harry he had fallen in love with, the Harry he had watched grow up. The Harry that he was watching break into a million little pieces right before his eyes.

Following the sound of the wracked sobs, Louis maneuvered his stiff body throughout the maze of walls and picture frames, each depicting a different moment in time where the two flatmates were happy, laughing, smiling. The older boy wondered what had happened, what had gone so terribly wrong between then and now that could have possibly have caused Harry to spiral downwards. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Harry.

Tentatively, Louis knocked on the door, awaiting the inevitable. The seconds ticked by, and then the familiar words were spoken, thrusting the two into the first few steps of their perverse ritual.

"Go away, Louis." Harry's wrecked voice sounded from the other side of the whitewashed door.

"Harry, please! Just tell me what's wrong and I won't bother you." Louis pleaded, following their usual script.

"No, Louis." Harry repeated, easily falling into step beside Lou as they danced complicated circles around the elephant in the room.

"Harry, let me in, or I'll get the key." The older boy threatened, pulling the thin silver tool out of his back pocket and moving threateningly towards the lock. Everything was falling into place. Within seconds, before Louis could even touch the door handle, Harry would have opened the door by himself. Right on queue, the door cracked open and Louis made his way inside.

This time though, things were worse. The bruises were darker, the cuts deeper, the tears wetter, Harry's composure more cracked than it had been before.

"Oh, Love." Louis cooed quietly, moving towards the bed so that he could wrap his arms around the younger boy and pull him close. "What happened?" He asked rhetorically, he'd been through the dance enough times to know that he wouldn't get an answer. He was just putting up the pretense.

"Nothing." Harry mumbled, pulling his sleeve over his hand and wiping at his eyes like a child. "Its nothing, Lou. I'm just being stupid." He laughed bitterly, his frail body shaking.

"I'm here for you, Harry. No matter what." Louis reassured him, placing a soft kiss on the curly haired boy's forehead and squeezing him tightly. And just like that, they started the dance again. Addressing just enough to show they care, but ignoring enough to show they're scared.

"Now let's get you cleaned up, those cuts look like they hurt." Harry smiled weakly, meeting Louis' bright blue gaze. He knew that at least for the time being, everything would be okay. Until reality stepped back in and kicked him to the curb, Harry Styles would be content to live in his dream world. A world without hurt, without suffering. A world filled with love and kindness and happiness of all sorts. 

But inside he knew that none of it was real. Each day that he slipped from Louis' loving arms and back into the tendrils of darkness without a single word of complaint, he was reminded that it was all just an illusion, a farce, a fairytale told to children.

And Harry Styles was no longer a child. His innocence had been brutally ripped from him, stolen, fought over like a piece of meat. Harry Styles was corrupted, dirty, tainted.

 

On a drab Sunday morning, a boy with curly brown hair sat alone in a kitchen. Wearing only his boxers, he sat uncomfortably on a bar stool, squishing his tall frame to fit on the seat. Eyes tired and limbs lethargic from the previous day's activities, the young boy could scarcely bring himself to move his spoon, let alone take a bite of the small amount of breakfast he had fixed for himself.

As soon as he had mustered up the strength to lift the spoon from the table, he walked down the stairs. Strutting towards the island, the blond haired boy plopped himself down in the seat next to the other and snatched the spoon from his hand. As an afterthought, he grabbed the spoon as well and began to devour the unappetizing grain mercilessly. 

The younger boy, completely taken aback by his boyfriend's lack of compassion, sat still. He looked on, a mask of stoicism plastered upon his chiseled features. He had been hungry, but since his food had been stolen and he was too tired to get up and make himself a bowl, the growling in the pit of his stomach quieted. He seemed to have lost his appetite.

"What're you staring at?" The blond barked, spoon clattering into the bowl noisily as he dropped it in anger. His chocolate brown eyes smoldering with hate.

"N-no-nothing." The curly haired boy stuttered, unfolding himself from where he sat and moving towards the stairs, needing to get away from the oppressive atmosphere.

"Haven't I told you to keep your shirt on? Jesus. Put on some fucking clothes." The brown eyed man seethed, bits of chewed cereal spewing from between his lips.

"I'm so-" The younger boy rushed to apologize, covering his bare chest with his arms, but was rudely interrupted once more.

"Shut up!" The man roared, standing up and sending the bowl crashing to the floor in the process. "Do as I say! I shouldn't have to see your fat hanging out in my own home." he spat, looking down to where the dish had broken. "Now pick that up." He huffed, storming out of the kitchen and leaving the green eyed boy to pick up the pieces.

__________

"Harry." Louis called for the eighth time, finally pushing himself from his chair and reaching over the table to wave his hand in front of the younger boy's face. "Harry?"

Suddenly, Harry jumped, startling both himself and the boy across from him. He hadn't realized that he had spaced out, but was quick to recover. Looking towards Louis, he plastered on a smile.

"How was your day?" He asked smoothly, picking up his fork and beginning to push around the mashed potatoes on his plate. He was hungry, but he didn't feel well. His stomach felt like lead and he didn't really want to make it any worse.

"My day was fine." Louis replied, his tone confused. Harry had asked him that when they had first sat down together. He had been staring at the sink for half an hour. "What about yours?" The older boy asked politely, honestly wondering what had happened that day to make his Curly so spacey.

"Same, same." Harry mumbled, pushing his plate away from the edge of the table so that he could stand up without knocking it off. "Nothing of interest went on today. Have you heard from the-" he continued to ramble until he was cut off by Louis' startled cry.

"Harry!" He exclaimed, grabbing the younger boy's wrists and pulling them forward so that he could examine them more closely. "Haz," Louis breathed, softer this time, more comforting. "How did this happen? You've got pieces of porcelain in your fingers still!" His voice had dropped to no louder than a whisper. Slowly, he stood up and walked towards Harry, guiding him to the sink and giving him strict instructions not to move until he had come back with the tweezers and antiseptic.

"Lou..." Harry whined as the older boy proceeded to remove the small glass-like shards from his hands. "It hurts." Quickly, Louis finished picking out all of the pieces, resting the tweezers on a clean towel and pulling Harry into a warm embrace.

"It's okay, Haz." He reassured the younger boy, grabbing a wash cloth dipped in antiseptic and dabbing over Harry's cuts. "You'll be okay." He smiled.

"Thanks, Lou Bear." Harry sniffled, emotions high and hands throbbing painfully. Why couldn't he be more like Louis?

Louis cared for him. He woke him up in the morning, cooked for him, bought him things, took him out, laughed with him, cried with him, talked with him, played with him, and it was perfect. They were perfect. They had never fought with one another, and felt that one completed the other. It was almost as if they were made for each other.

Louis wasn't like him. He wasn't cold, unloving, brutal, or controlling. He didn't speak to Harry condescendingly or menacingly. He didn't threaten, didn't yell, didn't put him down. Why couldn't he have fallen for someone more like Lou?

"Hazza, you still have bangers and mash on your plate." Louis smiled softly, nudging the taller boy's lithe frame back towards the dining table. "You should eat up."

"Nah, its fine." Harry lied, picking up his plate and scraping the excess food into the trash bin. "I ate earlier, so I'm not too hungry." It was a lie. He had taken his breakfast, making him feel so terrible that he hadn't felt like eating all day.

"I-if you're sure, Haz." Louis accepted the lie cautiously, not really sure whether or not he should force Harry to sit down and eat more food or not. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." The curly haired boy smiled genuinely, lighting up the room. 

"Well, just in case, I'll put the left overs in the fridge." The blue eyed boy replied, beginning to package up the excess food. 

"Okay, you can have them tomorrow then," I don't need anything more to eat, I'm already fat enough Harry added silently, retreating from the kitchen and heading towards his bedroom.  "Thanks for dinner, Lou Lou." He called back. Even though he didn't taste it, he knew that anything Louis made would be amazing, simply because he made it. 

"Any time, Haz." Louis replied, sending him a quick smile before turning around and starting on the dishes.

 

"What're you doing?" A gruff voice spoke from somewhere above the curly haired boy's tired form.

"Get up, we're going out." The voice repeated, grasping the young boy's comforter in its hand and tugging it to the floor.

The green eyed boy groaned involuntarily, moving his arm to shield his face from the light. A hard smack sounded throughout the barren bedroom and a red hand print began to form on his pale face.

"I said get up. Jesus fucking Christ, can't you ever listen?" The older boy shouted, hurling expletives and abuse at his partner. "I don't want to be late. Put some fucking clothes on and get your lazy ass up out of bed." He was angry now, and the younger boy didn't want to have to deal with what would happen if he stayed in bed any longer. Clutching his reddening face, he rolled over, though not fast enough for his boyfriend.

"I SAID LET'S GO! ARE YOU DEAF OR ARE YOU JUST FUCKING STUPID?" He screamed, grabbing the curly haired lad by the collar bone and throwing him violently to the floor. 

"O-o-okay." The younger boy stuttered, pushing himself onto his hands and knees and starting to get up. "I'm sorry. I'll get ready now-" But he was cut off by another barrage of vicious attacks.

"Don't fucking talk back to me, you filthy animal. You do as I say, speak only when I tell you to. No one should have to listen to the shit that comes out of your mouth, especially me. It's a wonder they even keep you in that fucking band, you're absolute shit at everything you do. And I know they don't want you for your looks, either." The older boy sneered, continuing to mumble hurtful words just loud enough for the younger boy to hear as he made his way out of the bedroom.

The chocolate haired boy lay there, cold, alone, hurt, suffering, on the floor. He knew he needed to move and get ready, but it just hurt so much.

Biting the bullet, he stood, legs weak and shaky. He crossed the room silently, as if he were a ghost. The simile was fitting, he was more or less a ghost: a shell of his former self. He had been beaten, broken, corrupted. He was not like the child he had been before this all started, so innocent and young, so carefree. When the green eyed boy realized that he would never be the same, he began to cry. He grieved for the deterioration of his innocence, for his precious  youth that had been wrongfully stolen from him, for the times long gone where he hadn't a care in the world. Wiping haphazardly at the tears that stained his hollow alabaster cheeks, he grabbed a pair of chinos and a random top. He dressed quickly and was soon out the door, knitted beanie in hand.

As he sat in the car watching the trees and other cars pass by, the young boy tugged his beanie down over his curls, hoping in vain that it would shield him from the terrors of the outside world, hoping that it would somehow preserve his last shred of innocence, when in fact it was already gone.

________

When Louis woke up from his afternoon nap just in time for tea at five, he didn't expect to find a very ominous text message from Anne waiting for him. He expected to be woken quietly by a certain curly haired boy climbing in bed with him, cuddling into his side and wrapping his arms around him in a warm embrace. He wasn't quite happy to have been roused from his slumber by an annoying vibrating sound, but he figured since it was Anne, it was important.

"Check Sugarscape. Call Harry." The Doncaster lad read aloud, rolling his body out of bed and stretching halfheartedly. 

Stride lazy and footsteps both heavy and lethargic upon the clean hardwood floor, Louis made his way from his bedroom and into the living room area where he kept his laptop. With a stray yawn still lingering in his tired soul, the blue eyed boy plopped himself haphazardly on the couch, pulling his computer onto his lap and opening up the internet.

He didn't really know what to expect. Honestly, if Anne's cryptic message was anything to go by, he assumed he should have prepared himself for the worst, but he couldn't be sure. As soon as the familiar black, yellow, and purple website popped up, Louis was bombarded with headlines featuring Harry's name as well as pictures of the young pop star. Clicking on the most recently posted article, he began to read.

HARRY STYLES SPOTTED WITH BOYFRIEND DANNY INGLES AND THEY DO NOT LOOK HAPPY

Hooked by the intriguing tagline, he perused the article further.

Spotted in downtown London late this afternoon were One Direction's Harry Styles and his infamous boyfriend Danny Ingles. The couple was seen arguing outside of the train station, obviously not getting along as swimmingly as they had been when posing for pictures after the Brit Awards.

Spectators of the young couple's dispute claim that Ingles was the aggressor, hurling abuse at Styles and calling him a slew of names that weren't entirely appropriate for public ears. The youngest member of One Direction apparently walked away from Danny, hiding his face. Whether or not rough physical contact was involved, we don't know. 

One source told our correspondent that "Danny smacked Harry, leaving the young boy crying. He tried to apologise, but Ingles wouldn't hear it and he just slapped him again. It was awful!"

Trouble in paradise, Styles? It's okay. Go home to your Lou-Bear, we're sure he'll kiss it better.

Momentarily confused by the article's contents, Louis shrank back into the sofa, letting his head hang in his hands as he fully processed exactly what had gone on between the younger boy and his partner of choice. Suddenly, everything clicked. The not eating, the crying, the random cuts and bruises everywhere. Louis had found the last piece of the puzzle, and now he could see the big picture.

Now all he had to do was get Harry out of this mess.

 

The blows came one after another, impacting upon upon the fleshy surface without missing their target. 

A young boy cringed, feeling the bruises blossoming just beneath the surface of his once unblemished skin. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the fist coming towards his face at an impossible speed. The boy rationalized each hit: I'm not good enough, he thought. One for being overweight, one for not listening, another two for that bowl he broke because of me, three for speaking out of turn.

He curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and praying that the new position would shield him as much as possible from further harm. Unfortunately, this was not the case. New, untouched places were exposed, and the flurry of punches and kicks moved from fragile cheek bones to visible ribs.

"You coward!" His aggressor seethed, putting more force behind every vicious assault. "How dare you try and get away from me, take your fucking punishment like a man." 

The young boy groaned, choking as he tried to breathe properly. Coughing harshly, he felt a coppery wetness on his lips. Blood. He timidly pulled a hand from where it sat, wrapped tightly around his knees, and wiped at his mouth, cringing as he pulled back the garish red substance. 

"You fucking pussy!" The angry voice shouted, shooting a muscly arm out and grabbing the beaten and bruised boy by the shoulder. He curled his sausage like fingers around the smaller's neck, gripping hard enough to constrict air flow, but not hard enough to do any permanent damage. The air rushed from his lungs, leaving him to flail his arms in a vain attempt to grab the molecules and put them back where they belonged.

"You think you're tough? Arguing with me in public, making a scene?" The words leaked like acid from the older boy's lips, filling his victim with fear. His small form was suddenly flung against the wall, fingers still wrapped firmly around his neck, leaving his feet dangling six or so inches from the floor. 

"N-n-no..." the broken boy stuttered, finding himself having trouble breathing. His vision was blurring, whether it be from swelling or overall exhaustion, he didn't know.

"Don't fucking talk back to me, you worthless piece of shit!" His assailant raged, finally landing a punch square in the younger's face and plunging him into the darkness.  
__________  
Louis ran around the apartment in a frenzy. He frantically searched for his car keys, wallet, anything he would possibly need before leaving the flat. He was in such a hurry that he had almost forgotten to grab his espadrilles from where they sat, cast down haphazardly beside the front door. 

Harry hadn't been anywhere in the flat, and he wasn't with any of the boys, which left only one other possible option. Danny's house. Of course, Louis was scared of what state he'd find the curly haired boy in, but regardless, he needed to make sure Harry was okay. He needed to tell him, to save him from this mess.

Louis wouldn't admit that he sped the entire way there, wouldn't tell you that he was expecting at least two or three tickets to be waiting in his mailbox for him the next morning, and he definitely wouldn't tell you that he was crying, tears blurring his vision so much that he thought he was going to have to pull over and compose himself. The drive passed agonizingly slowly, Louis couldn't remember much of it. He had been too focused on getting to Harry to take in the scenery.

Finally arriving at the small, misleadingly quaint home, Louis exited his car. He didn't know what to expect, would Harry be battered, in pieces on the floor? Would he be in one piece, fly, laughing, into his arms and say that the article was a bunch of bullshit? He wanted to believe that the latter situation was the most likely to happen, but in truth, he knew it wasn't.

When Louis approached the house, the first thing that he noticed was the door. Rather than being locked and closed like the rest of the front doors on the street, Danny's door was left wide open, sagging on its hinges as if it were thrown open roughly in a state of panic.

Worried more than ever, Louis forgot all of the manners Jay had instilled in him as a child, springing into a run and bypassing the common courtesy of knocking before entering. Frantically, he checked all of the rooms downstairs for a familiar mop of curly hair, piercing green eyes, or even Harry's deep, breathy laugh.

Unable to spot the one thing he needed in his life, he hesitantly ventured upstairs, frightened to death of what he may find there.

The stairs creaked and moaned under his feet, his stomach flipped, doing somersaults, cartwheels, back handsprings even. His knees shook, hands trembling so much that he needed to grip the banister just to keep himself upright. Placing one foot in front of the other, he steeled his nerves, closing his eyes for a brief second and composing himself before continuing into the abyss. 

At the top of the stairs, he was greeted by three doors. The first one he peered into was an office. Papers were strewn messily across the floor, open books piled on the desk, and the computer sat idly in the corner. With a quick glance around the room, he realized that Harry was not present, and ventured on.

The next room was the master bedroom. Feeling slightly voyeuristic as he stepped past the threshold, he moved forward on dainty feet, trying not to make any noise. Chills crept up his spine as he took in the state of the room: the sheets were torn, splattered with an dark, unknown substance, the lamp sat shattered on the bedside table, pieces of glass littering the floor, the dresser drawers were all opened or pulled completely from the stand, clothes hanging precariously from the wooden structure or piled on top of the carnage that covered the floor.

Feeling slightly sick to his stomach as he was unable to find Harry, Louis backed out of the room, eyes closed, as he tried to un-see the image that had now been burned into his eyes. Once back in the hallway, he cautiously approached the third door, which sat closed. Realizing it wasn't the time for etiquette, but feeling so apprehensive as he drew closer and closer to the ominous door, Louis knocked quietly, but just loud enough to be heard.

'Harry?' he called, knocking softly upon the white washed wood once more. 'Are you in there, love?'

Silence.

Louis jiggled the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Apprehensive, he turned it slowly, both satisfied and scared as he heard the door click open. 

'Oh, Harry...' the Doncaster lad whispered brokenly, blue eyes misting with tears as he took in the sight before him. 

 

Louis sat uncomfortably in the lobby, gazing at the whitewashed wall in front of him. He shifted in the plastic chair in which he had plopped down over two hours ago. After frantically filling out medical forms and dialing numbers he had memorized long ago, the Doncaster lad let out a deep breath and did the only thing he could.

He waited.

He waited, and waited, and waited more. He had practically memorized the lattice pattern that adorned the ugly carpet beneath his feet, waiting for the doctor to come in and tell him that Harry would be okay. He didn't need anything else at that moment. Just to know that the boy he was ever so helplessly in love with was okay. That was all he asked.

Tapping his fingers on his thigh was annoying the people around him. He knew this, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He needed to occupy his mind with something else, rather than the images of Harry broken, bruised, battered, and bleeding on a pristine white tile floor. He didn't need to relive the moment he found him in Danny's bathroom.

'Where are they?' Louis thought to himself, checking his watch and calculating how long it had been since he had contacted the boys. It was their day off, so he knew that they were probably milling about the complex, playing video games or watching a movie.

Frustrated, the blue eyed boy pulled his cell phone from his pocket and sent out a follow-up text to each of the boys, reminding them that the youngest member of the band they all belonged to, and one of their brothers, more importantly, was in the hospital in critical condition.

He wanted to cry. 

How could his friends, the people he called part of his family, be so uncaring? How could they not be concerned at all? Did they think Harry asked for this, to be beaten to a bloody pulp by his boyfriend and left for dead in a bathroom? 

'Louis?' The tinkling sound of a familiar soft voice caught the older boy's attention and pulled him from his thoughts. Looking up, Louis was greeted by two identical smiles, soft and understanding as only a child's can be.

'Hey girls.' Louis whispered brokenly, not trusting himself to speak any louder.

'Boo.. Honey, are you going to be okay?' Jay walked up behind the girls and wrapped her arms around her children.

'No. I won't.' Louis wept, finally letting the tears fall. 'I won't be okay until this is all handled and I know Harry is going to be safe.'

'He'll pull through, love. Just you wait. He's a strong boy.' She smiled, kissing her only son on the cheek and pulling away. 'Is Anne on her way?' 

'Yeah. She was called when we got here. She was the first one I called.' Louis wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, drying the wetness on his pant leg.

'And where are the boys?' Jay asked, confused, as she surveyed the room. She couldn't spot the familiar boys anywhere.

'I don't know. I called them too, and I just texted them. Its been two hours since I called, and I don't know where they are. I mean, I assumed that once they heard Harry was in the hospital, they'd come running. Because- we're a family. Aren't we a family, Mum? However broken and unorthodox, we're still a family, right? We're brothers, if not by blood, then in spirit?' At this point, Louis had began to cry again, his petite frame shaking as he sobbed violently. 

'Oh Boo...' Jay's voice cracked as she wrapped her arms around her son once more, providing him with a comforting embrace only a mother could give. 'It'll be okay.  Maybe they don't have their phones on them? You never know.' Her voice was soothing, uplifting, and everything that Louis needed right then. Because what happened next, he wasn't prepared to handle by himself.

'Excuse me, are you Louis Tomlinson?' A very tall man walked approached the hugging mother and son, a small smile plastered on his aging face. Louis, through tear filled eyes, took in the doctor's appearance.Circular glasses with black frames sat perched on his angular nose, matching the dark colour of both his hair and small beard. He didn't look unprofessional thought, in fact, he looked very smart. Wiping at his face, Louis responded.

'Yes, sir. I am. Is Harry going to be okay?' He asked cautiously, steeling his nerves for any bad news that the man could tell them.

'He'll be okay.' The older man spoke softly, and both Jay and Louis let out a breath that they didn't realize they had been holding. 'He's got quite an extensive list of injuries, but he should heal up soon enough. It looks a lot worse than it actually is, sounds like it too.' He tried to joke, but once he saw the mortified look on Louis' face, he stopped.

'Would you like to go and see him?' He offered, trying to make up for his failed attempt at lightening the mood.

'Yes.' Louis whispered, unable to bring himself to speak any louder. Quietly, he dislodged himself from his mother's arms and kissed both of his sisters on the cheek. 'I'll be back, okay girls? Daisy, Phoebe, be good for Mummy, and you can come and see Hazza.' They nodded quickly, easily complying with Louis' polite command.  
_____

'Guys, what if Harry's seriously hurt?' Niall asked, throwing his phone onto the couch and pacing angrily around the room.

'What do you mean, if he's seriously hurt? Its his fault! He parties too hard, gets himself in trouble all the time. He's reckless, and its gone too far now. He needs to realize that getting in fights and coming home broken and bruised to Louis isn't the way he should be living!' Zayn argued, casting a scathing glance at Niall.

'Hold on a minute, what if its not that though!? What if there's something going on that we don't know about, and we're the ones in the wrong? What if Harry dies in that hospital and we don't go to see him because we thought he brought it upon himself?' The Irishman spoke vehemently, stopping his pacing and coming to stand in front of Zayn.

'Guys, can we not do this?' Liam sighed, having been surprisingly quiet throughout the entire creative discussion. 'We should probably go and check on him, regardless if he put himself there, or someone else did.' The brown haired boy looked at his phone, checking his text messages as well as the time. 'I've got about ten messages from Louis, some from Anne and Jay, and even some from Gemma. I say its about time we head down to the hospital.' Standing up, he looked at Zayn.

'Regardless of what you think, or what any of us think, Harry is part of this family. And, as a family, we help each other through things, not leave them alone while they suffer in a hospital bed to deal with the repercussions of their actions.' Liam snapped. Niall's eyes widened as they always did when Liam made the transformation from quiet, yet goofy member of One Direction to protective and intuitive Daddy Direction. 'C'mon.' the Wolverhampton lad spoke authoritatively, gathering his keys, wallet, and phone before exiting the flat.

Niall followed close behind, sticking his tongue out at Zayn petulantly as he passed by.

_______

As soon as Zayn entered the too-clean white room, he was hit by a wave of panic. What if Harry was dying? What if there was something he could've done to prevent all of this from happening? What if...?

Liam was the first to speak, noticing Louis curled up on the floor with two, small girls asleep on top of him. Jay sat in the chair next to them, keeping careful watch over the four children as they slept. Quietly, Liam greeted  her, sending a brief smile her way before moving to examine Harry's condition.

Niall gasped when he looked towards the bed, he hadn't been prepared for things to be this bad. Harry's luscious brown curls were matted with blood, his face bruised and swelling obscenely, splotches of black, blue, and a rather unhealthy looking yellow marring his once pristine skin. He looked like he was sleeping, probably a medically induced sleep, but at least the boy was getting some rest. The Irishman tried not to count the number of wires and tubes coming from Harry's small form.

Suddenly, a nurse walked by the room. Noticing the door was left open, she popped her head in. Glancing briefly between Jay, Louis, and the newcomers, she spoke.

'Are you three supposed to be in here? This is a private room...'

'Yeah, um... We're One Direction...' Liam replied, his voice cracking a little at the end. He coughed, waking Louis from his slumber.

'Nice of you lads to finally show up.' The Doncaster lad mumbled groggily, sitting up and carefully moving the twins from where they were curled up on his lap.

'We're sorry. Someone,' Niall sent an accusatory glance at Zayn, who blushed and suddenly found his shoes very interesting, 'thought it wasn't worth coming.'

Louis glared at Zayn. 'Wasn't worth coming? Are you serious right now?' He whispered, deadly calm. Standing up, he moved towards the Bradford boy with a speed that no one knew he possessed. Jay looked on helplessly. 'Your best friend, your brother, is in the hospital. He's got a broken nose, fractured cheek bone, two broken ribs, a moderate concussion, and bruises and cuts all over his body.' He poked Zayn's chest aggressively. 'You think that's not worth coming? Not worth pausing a round of FIFA or MarioKart to come and see an injured mate in the hospital?' 

Zayn gulped audibly, backing away from Louis. 'I'm sorry. I thought he brought it upon himself. He's been coming back to yours bruised and all messed up for months. He always stays out late, never returns the same day he came, and he's never around anymore. He's changed.' He tried reasoning, but to no avail.

'You..' Louis was honestly lost for words. Niall and Liam could see the fire burning in his eyes, the passion, the love, the commitment, the adoration, the grief, the suffering, the pain. With a glance towards Harry, Louis calmed himself, looking back to  Zayn and continuing. 'You don't know anything, Zayn. So don't fucking come in here with your head up your ass and tell me he deserved what happened to him. He didn't do anything. It's not my place to tell, and maybe he will tell you someday, but if you keep going the way you are now, I'll make sure he won't have the fucking chance.' The older boy's eyes filled with tears as he backed away, turning on his heel and exiting the small room.

Liam looked towards Jay, who had been a silent spectator throughout the entire exchange. No words were spoken, but Liam effectively communicated his distress to the motherly figure, relating how confused he was about the entire situation. She shook her head solemnly, unable to help explain without Harry's consent. 

'I'm going to go after him. Anne said she'd be here in an hour or two. She had to go and pick up Gemma before she left.' With a sympathetic glance towards Zayn and the other boys, she smiled meekly. 'Take good care of him. The doctors said he wouldn't be up for a while yet.. with the concussion and all. He'll have to sleep it off. Try not to wake the girls, if you can?' She advised softly and walked out of the room in search of her son.

Niall and Liam nodded, and Zayn remained silent.

 

When Anne finally arrived at the hospital, Gemma in tow, she was prepared to see her only son laid out before her on a hospital bed, hooked up to various tubes and machines. She was prepared for bruises, prepared for broken bones, shattered ones even, stitches, casts, band aids, you name it, she had been ready.

What she hadn't been prepared for though, was what she would hear upon entering the sterile white room. The older woman stepped past the threshold, holding her daughter's hand tightly so as to draw on her for any ounce of support she'd need.

'Mum...' Harry's broken voice sounded from the bed, his once proud form huddled under the stark white sheets. He wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be out, making music, singing, changing the world. He wasn't supposed to look like a child, swaddled in blankets, in a bed too big for him.

Anne's heart broke, as did the dam that was holding back her tears.

'Oh, Harry.' she sobbed, rushing towards her youngest child and wrapping him gingerly in a warm embrace. 'Oh my baby, my baby.' she wailed, cradling his broken and bruised body in her arms and kissing his matted curls.

Gemma sat herself on the edge of her brother's bed, wiping silently at the tears that sprung from her eyes. She watched her mother rock her baby brother soothingly, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as they cried together. In any other situation, she'd be laughing, accusing Harry of being a Momma's boy. But no, when her little brother was put in the hospital by his abusive boyfriend, there was no room for laughter.

She looked over to the corner, where three young boys sat piled atop one another, Louis' two small sisters cradled in their arms. With the thought of the Doncaster lad milling about in her mind, she couldn't help but wonder how Louis felt about all of this. What would he have done if it were one of his sisters sitting in the hospital bed? She assumed he'd handle it the same way as he was handling her brother's situation, with love, care, and support. 

Having not seen Louis, Gemma was left wondering how the older boy was taking it. She knew how he felt about Harry, having spent days upon days with the pair, she had picked up a few things here and there. She saw the long, love struck glances Louis casted Harry's way, the way that the blue eyed boy would let his hugs linger just a little longer than necessary. She saw it all. She knew.

Looking back towards her beaten and bruised brother, she prayed that he would be able to fix him. If Louis couldn't, then there would be no hope whatsoever.  
___

'Excuse me, Mr. Tomlinson?' The doctor from earlier approached Louis. The younger boy lifted his head from where it sat in his hands, wiping at his eyes and sniffling solemnly.

'Yes, sir?' He replied, composing himself as best he could.

'I'd like to give you some more information on Mr. Styles' condition.' He started, pulling out a clip bord and tucking a pen behind his ear. Louis sat up a little straighter.

'He's going to be okay, right? Nothing has changed since I left?' the Doncaster lad panicked, he hadn't meant to leave, he just needed to get out of the suffocating room.

'Oh, no!' the doctor gasped, waving his free hand around frantically. 'Mr. Styles will make a full recovery. We're quite confident in that. But, there are certain things we noticed when he came in.' Louis realized the older man was evading the subject.

'Please, Doc. I'll be able to handle whatever you're about to tell me. I'm his primary emergency contact.' Lou pleaded, practically begging on his knees for the news of his flat mate's condition.

'Well, son. It seems as if Mr. Styles is.. well, extremely underweight.' the doctor broke the news calmly, as if he did it every day.

'H-how underweight?' Louis stuttered, not believing his ears.

'Very. We had to give him fluids as well as vitamins in addition to his pain medication when he came in. You need to keep a close eye on him when he leaves. Make sure he eats proper sized meals, drinks enough fluids, doesn't force himself to throw up.' Louis winced at the doctor's words.

'Wait, you're suggesting that  Harry is anorexic or bullemic?' the blue eyed boy found himself unable to comprehend the statement. His Harry, his perfect Hazza, the Curly to his Boobear, starving himself and throwing up whatever he ate? He was beautiful- why would he..? Louis' train of thought hit a brick wall.

'Danny.' He whispered  under his breath, tears springing in his eyes once more. How could he have let this happen?

'Excuse me, Mr. Tomlinson? Did you say something?' the doctor asked, putting his clip board under his arm and looking at Louis skeptically.

'No, sir. Everything is fine.' Louis lied, standing up and walking back towards Harry's room. Maybe he'd be awake.  
_________

'The girls can't stay here.' Jay whispered to Anne as they sat and watched Louis' sisters play patty cake with Harry.

'I know. We should probably all leave. Its getting late. We can come back tomorrow. Are you staying at the flat?' Anne replied, beckoning Gemma over to join the adults in their conversation.

'Yeah, Mum?' Gemma questioned, skeptical as to why she had been called over.

'Honey, we're going to leave in a bit. Harry needs to rest.' Jay smiled at her.

'Oh, are we staying at the flat, or do you have a room?' Gemma inquired, completely ready to spend the night in Harry's bed.

'We're going to the flat. Jay is going to take the girls to the hotel down the street, but we'll share a taxi so it'll cut the cost in half.' Anne, the ever present voice of reason, spoke quietly. Jay stood, beginning to round up her children and bidding goodbye to Harry.

'Where's Louis?' Gemma asked, having not spotted the boy since she arrived an hour or so before.

'He had to go take care of some things, I'm sure he won't let Harry spend the night alone, though.' Jay smiled, tucking a sleeping Daisy in her arms.

'Are we ready?' Anne asked, standing up and picking her purse off of the floor. 'The car is waiting downstairs for us.'

'Yeah, we're ready.' Gemma answered for the group, sweeping one last glance around the room and checking for anything she might have forgotten.

'Goodbye, Harry.' Anne whispered in her son's ear, kissing him on the forehead and exiting the room. His sister followed swiftly behind, kissing his cheek in the same manner.

'Goodbye, Haz. I'll see you in the morning. Tell Louis I say hello when he comes back in here, okay? And make sure he gets some sleep.' She giggled, leaving her little brother for the night.

'Goodbye, Gem.' Harry replied as she walked out the door, too quiet for her to hear in her rush to catch up with the rest of the group. For a moment, all was quiet. But only for a moment.

'Hey baby. I'm back. Did you miss me?'

 

The young boy pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and curling himself into a ball. He needed to make himself as small as possible, he didn't want to be seen.

'You think you could hide from me? That I'd just run off, leaving you all alone, and never come back?' the figure seethed, stepping closer and closer to where the curly haired boy lay in the hospital bed.

He whimpered, unable to control himself. He didn't want this to happen all over again, he thought it was done, he thought that he was gone. It was all just a nightmare and he was going to wake up, cradled in Louis' arms. Danny wasn't there, his tormentor was off somewhere else, to occupied with other things to bother with a waste of space like him.

'You're so naive, so young and stupid.' He laughed bitterly, reaching a hand out and running a finger along the smaller boy's throat. He leaned closer, lips suspended ominously a few centimeters from Harry's ear. 'I told you I was going to break you. I'm going to finish what I've started.'

Harry flinched away from the threatening words, away from his touch. It was all a dream, this wasn't really happening. He was going to wake up and this will have never happened. He'd wake up in the same hospital room, Jay cradling the twins in her arms as they slept soundly on her lap, his Mum speaking with Louis and the doctor outside the room, and Gemma texting on her phone until she realized that he was awake. She'd wrap him in her arms, wipe away his tears like any good big sister would, and tell him that it was all a dream, that none of this was real.

'Aw. You poor baby.. Little baby Harry.' He laughed maniacally, pulling away from where Harry cowered, body paralyzed with fear. 'This isn't a dream, babe. This is real.' He whispered, so low that the curly haired boy almost didn't hear him. And with that, he was out of the room, and Harry's life- for the time being.  
_____

When Louis arrived back in Harry's room, a bowl filled with orange Jello balancing precariously on his arm as he struggled to open the door by himself, he wasn't prepared to find the room empty. Sometime between when he had stormed out and when he had returned, the boys, his mother, and the twins had all left. He wondered, fleetingly, if Anne and Gemma had ended up getting there to see Harry that night.

He looked to the bed that sat in the middle of the room, aching to see the familiar mop of curly hair that he loved ever so much. He placed the bowl on the bedside table, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running a hand down Harry's shoulder.

'Hey, I know its late, but I brought you some Jello from downstairs. I figured you might want something to eat that had a bit more flavour than whatever they've been feeding you...' Louis smiled, but only before noticing that Harry was crying.

'Oh, Hazza, love. What's wrong?' he whispered brokenly, confused and distraught. He was only gone for an hour, two at most. The time he spent composing himself in the hall and talking to the doctor being the main reason why he was out so long. 'Oh, my little Curly. Its alright.' He smiled forlornly, carefully pulling Harry's bruised and broken body into his arms, taking extra precautions so as to not jostle his broken ribs too much.

'He was here.' Harry sobbed, wrapping his arms around Louis for support. 'I don't know if I was dreaming, or if it actually happened, but he was here and it was just- Oh, Lou.' he cried, clinging to his flat mate as if his life depended on it.

'Harry, it was probably a dream. He's a suspect in a domestic abuse case at the moment, dear. they're going to keep a close eye on him.' Louis hadn't mentioned it to anyone, but he'd talked to the police on the phone while he was waiting for the doctor to give him information about Harry's condition. Security was keeping a closer eye on their flat, as well. Just to make sure that no unwanted visitors showed up.

'Everything will be okay, love. You'll see.' the blue eyed boy vowed, praying that Harry would trust him enough to take his words at face value and believe in his promise, even if he wasn't sure it was true himself.

Harry nodded into Louis' chest as the older boy held him tightly, leaving the bowl of Jello forgotten on the bedside table.  
_____

The next morning, the doctor came in. He was rather startled to find his patient curled up in the arms of another man, but he didn't let it faze him. It was the twenty-first century, after all. Knocking softly on the door frame, he attempted to wake the two slumbering boys as nicely and politely as he could.

'Excuse me, Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Styles?' He spoke, trying to rouse at least one of them.

Louis was the first to open his eyes, blinking away the sleepy dust that had gathered in his eyelashes while he rested. Carefully, he adjusted his position so that he could speak with the doctor without disturbing the younger boy who slept on peacefully in his arms.

'Hey Doc,' Louis croaked, voice still rusty from sleep. 'What's up?' he asked, having cleared his throat.

'Good morning, Mr. Tomlinson.' The doctor smiled, pulling out his handy clip board and tugging a pen out from behind his ear. 'I just wanted to inform you that Mr. Styles can return home today, if he so wishes. Despite how severe his injuries may sound, he's healing quite quickly, and if he stays on bed rest for a few weeks in the comfort of his own home, I'm confident that he'll make a faster recovery there, rather than being cooped up in this room.' Louis smiled at the news.

'But what about his concussion, don't you need to keep him in for monitoring?' the older boy inquired, running a hand through Harry's matted hair.

'I'm afraid you must've misheard me earlier, son.' The doctor smiled, shaking his head. 'Mr. Styles was at risk for developing one. We couldn't be sure whether or not he had one until he had woken up. While you were arguing with your dear friend, one of our lovely nurses came in and checked him over. He was fine.'

'So that means we can leave?' Louis asked, bewildered beyond belief.

'As soon as Mr. Styles wakes up and you sign a few papers, I'll have a nurse bring up a wheel chair and you two can be on your merry way.' the Doctor laughed, highly amused by Louis' look of incredulity 

'Do you think you could have someone bring the papers up here? He needs to rest and I don't think I'll be able to move any more without waking him...' the Doncaster lad trailed off, realizing that he was asking a lot from the busy hospital staff.

'Of course, Mr. Tomlinson. I'll have the nurse bring it up with the wheel chair, its no problem at all.' The older man laughed casually, tucking his clip board under his arm and replacing the pen behind his ear out of habit. He turned to leave. 

'Oh, and Mr. Tomlinson?' the doctor spoke, pausing in the doorway.

'Yes sir?' Louis responded, bubbling with excitement due to the fact that Harry would be able to leave soon, and that this was almost over.

'You need to tell that boy you're in love with him.' He advised. 'Even the nurses and I can see how much you care. It'd be a shame to let it all go to waste when he cares just as much for you as you do for him.' 

And with that, he slipped quietly out of the room, leaving a dumbfounded Louis and a sleeping Harry in his wake. 

 

Harry had been home for almost two weeks.

Two weeks without a single incident, without a single phone call form the boys, a single murmur of disturbance from Danny. Louis hadn't let Harry out of his sight, even going as far as to sleep on the younger boy's bedroom floor instead of his own comfortable bed.

Of course, Louis thought it was too good to be true, but he wasn't going to disclose his suspicions to the curly haired object of his affection. He wanted Harry to heal properly, not to be constantly watching his back to see if his psycho ex-boyfriend was going to appear from behind a corner and cut him wide open.

Since Harry's return, Louis had barely left the flat. Save for their scheduled press release to sort out the rumours about their band mate's condition , the Doncaster lad hadn't left Harry's side.

It had gotten to the point where Harry was almost sick of Louis' existence, and Louis was going stir crazy with cabin fever, itching to leave the cushy flat and get out into the real word, the one with real, live people. Not that he didn't love Harry to bits, but it was as they said: distance makes the heart grow fonder.

'Haz?' Louis called into the depths of the flat, hoping that the curly haired boy would respond promptly from where he was in the shower.

'Yes, Lou?' Harry's voice was muffled by the spray of the shower, but Louis heard the gravely voice loud and clear.

'I'm going to run to the grocer's now, I'm tired of having Niall buy the wrong brand of ice cream and then having to have him come over and eat it because it's too intolerable. I miss my Ben and Jerry's.' the feathery haired boy moaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air only seconds before realizing that Harry couldn't see him.

'Okay, Lou! I'll be fine here. You go get your stupid ice cream, pick me up some Red Velvet while you're out?' He asked, turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around his exposed waist as he stuck his head out into the hall.

'Don't worry, Hazzhead. I'll bring you your nummy num nums.' the older boy laughed jovially, keys dangling from his dainty fingers as he skipped out the door.

'Bye, you dork.' Harry whispered as the door slammed behind Louis. Harry had missed this, this carelessness, this feeling of unrestrained freedom and love. 

And Harry is so caught up in Louis and his blue eyes and his feathery hair and his posh accent and his expressive hands and his quirky and flamboyant existence and it was all consuming. It tugged at his heart strings and put lumps in his throat and made his vision blurry and his mind go numb. Louis was his kryptonite, there was no doubt about that.

Harry tugged on a random pair of trousers, picking up one of Louis' sweaters from the floor and pulling it over his head as an afterthought. He hobbled his way into the living room, ribs still sore in light of recent events. Wincing, he sat down on the couch and picked up a worn copy of 'A Child Called 'It'' from the coffee table.

An hour after he had sat down, a pair of hands slipped over his eyes, blocking his vision.

'Hey, Lou. Welcome back.' Harry laughed, blindly folding the corner of the page and shutting his book. He tossed it to the side and began to turn around, finding that he was being held in place.

'Louis?' Harry asked, mood sobering with the lack of response from the owner of the hands.

'Guess again, sweetie.' a familiar voice laughed darkly.  
____________

Louis hadn't meant to be out long, but traffic was bad and Tesco's was too crowded. He ended up driving across town to the Sainsbury's instead, praying that it would be less packed than Tesco's. 

Much to his disappointment, right as he walked into the warehouse like building, his phone went off. Bypassing reading the caller ID, he answered.

'Hello?' His tone was terse, not really happy that his evil plan to purchase ice cream had been thwarted once more.

'Louis Tomlinson!' a shrill voice sounded from the speaker, making the Doncaster lad jump in surprise. 'Just because you're one-fifth of some famous posh boy band does not give you the right to make such a loud racket in your flat! There are other people in this goddamn building too. I'll have you know I called the cops because of the screaming. What the hell are you and that Styles boy up to?!' She ranted, but Louis had stopped paying attention after she had mentioned screaming.

'I'm sorry Ms. Johnson.. I'm not at home right now. It must be Harry. I'm sorry, but I have to go.' Louis rushed out, his mind focused on Harry, Harry, Harry.

He hopped back into his car, all thoughts and cravings for ice cream forgotten as he sped down the road. He didn't care that the police were going to send him several speeding tickets in the mail, he just needed to get home to Harry.

_____________

'Sir, we're going to need you to calm down, or I'm going to have to arrest you as well.' the police woman said, trying to hold Harry back as much as she could without hurting his bruised ribs, which he had ever so kindly warned her about.

'No!' Harry protested, struggling in her vice like grip. 'He's done nothing but abuse me for almost three years. He's hit me, humiliated me, torn down every ounce of confidence I've been able to muster. It's time I fight back.' he screamed, anger fuelling his words.

'Hah, you think that you can get another hit on me, you worthless fag? You're too stupid to even do a proper left hook.' Danny scoffed, struggling as two heavy-set policemen restrained him. 'You're nothing, absolutely nothing. You're a piece of shit and you're too fucked up to be loved. I don't even know why I put up with you for this long.'

'Go to hell!' Harry screamed, breaking out of the police woman's hold and launching himself at Danny. 'I'm not going to let you push me around any longer! I'm not your doormat, I'm a human being. You treat me like shit and expect me to just take it? I fucking loved you! I did everything for you. And how do you repay me? You beat me to a bloody pulp and land me in the hospital, threaten me while I'm there, and then you come into my flat- break in actually, and accost me?' He slurred hate, years and years worth of repressed emotions gushing out.

'Sir, I'm going to need you to step away before I'm forced to arrest you.' a new voice spoke softly, tone deadly calm. The curly haired boy backed up, wiping his eyes with a bloodied fist, and held the gaze of the muscled police man.

'I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of this. I handled the situation poorly.' He replied, deeply apologetic for his lapse in judgement. 

'It's okay, Sir. You've been through a lot. Right now, we're going to remove him from the premises and we'll call you into the station later for a full statement. I'm assuming you'll want to press charges?' The lady inquired, voice sincere and sympathetic.

'Yes.' someone spoke before Harry could even open his mouth. Quickly, he turned around.

'Louis,' the Cheshire boy sighed, dropping to his knees in pure exhaustion and jarring his bruised ribs in the process. He winced. 'I'm so glad you're back.' he whispered, almost inaudibly, before collapsing into a fit of tears.

'Get him out of here, please.' Louis spoke calmly, feeling that someone needed to stay composed. 'Feel free to call back later, but for now, can you just leave us alone? It's been a rough few weeks.' The policemen nodded, tugging Danny along by his arms.

'Of course, Sir. You take care of your boyfriend and we'll call when you're needed. After what we've seen, he may not even have to testify.' The police lady smiled sadly, following her co-workers out of the flat and closing the door behind her.

'Oh, Harry.' Louis sighed, wrapping the younger boy in a warm embrace and kissing his forehead softly. 'What am I going to do with you?' Harry just nodded unintelligibly, tears flowing freely.

'I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.' Louis whispered into the chocolate curls, holding Harry tight. 'We'll get through.'


End file.
